


law of averages

by Anonymous



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Again, But in a weird way, Character Study, Complicated Relationships, He's possessive over his whole family I think, I just think he may have a lot of regrets, Jealousy, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Stream of Consciousness, The Umbrella Academy (TV) Season 2 Spoilers, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Tension, because it does acknowledge...something, but he hasn't had a break, but thought better to be safe, he has lots of issues honestly, lots of headcanons abound, platonic soul mates, so either of the relationship tags could work, this could also just be five your favorite sibling is showing, to think about everything or mourn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27137453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In another time, he would have seen that subtle shake, and pride would still be there yes, but it would have been overshadowed by another larger feeling, and he would’ve stayed. In another time, he callously puts a bullet through her head without a care. Odds and evens, it’s the law of the averages. There had to be at least one timeline where he didn’t love her, and another time where he stayed, because in this one, neither of those happen.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & The Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy), Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70
Collections: Anonymous





	law of averages

Five prides himself on an excellent memory in the same way that he prides himself on everything about himself, whether his powers, his skills, or his intelligence.

That pride is irretrievably linked to a sense of ownership, that faint niggling at the back of his head that says – _this is mine, no one else can have it, I worked for it._

He prides himself on his reliance on cold, hard, facts, because facts are reliable. They’re either wrong or right. Like his equations, or his numbers, he can rely on them, in the same way that he can rely on himself.

He is a creature of habit.

He can adapt on the fly and has back up plans from A to Z, all with sub-plans, but precisely because of the shitshow that is his life, there is an almost obsessive need to maintain what he _can_ control. This includes facts, logic, self-interest (if he knows what other people want, he knows what to expect).

But just because he’s proud of what he has, doesn’t mean he’s happy about it. Happiness has nothing to do with it. It’s just what it is.

He kills. He’s an assassin. He’s already drowning in blood. He’s worked hard for it and it’s his, but he hates it _(and himself)_.

When he finds Vanya in that cornfield having lost her memory, he’s self-aware to know that what he feels is a complicated cocktail of envy, regret, and relief.

How nice that she can remain unburdened. It’s more than he can give her. The relief is palpable, but he’s still choking on regret.

Once, there was a time, so long ago for him, when he could have given her that and more. In the same way that she gave him – it wasn’t happiness exactly, but close to it – peace.

Because Five was her sole confidante, but she was also his. Five was always moving, and jumping, and running, but with her, he could rest. The quiet of her violin could always silence the whirring of his thoughts, the sureness of her touch could somehow calm the electricity underneath his skin, and her words his tether to sanity. Nothing much has changed, whether past or present.

In the apocalypse, the silence was so loud, he hated it. Of course fate would screw him over and the sound of her violin ended up becoming the requiem of the world. _(He still misses her playing though)_.

He feels inexplicably angry about it all, that she can forget about everything. Even though logically he knows it’s not her fault, it’s more his actually, time travel shenanigans and all _(meanwhile how ironic is it that she, through her book, ensured he could never forget)_.

Even though logically, he knows he couldn’t begrudge her for it if she _wanted_ to forget. There are too many bad memories that outweigh the good, even when it came to him. He left _~~(her)~~_ , see? Of course she’d want to forget.

Meanwhile, he’s left with the memories, and the accompanying guilt and what-ifs.

* * *

  
He’s always loved winning, the satisfaction of solving a difficult problem, the feeling of getting the better of another, the assurance that he was the best. Without a thought, he blinks, cheats or adapts whatever, to get to the top. And at the top is Vanya. And Dad, of course.

By virtue of his height (he’d pull out someone else’s teeth before admitting it, but it is what it is), or shorter persuasion, is one way to put it, when he skids to the top of the staircase, he is at Vanya’s eye-level. The pride he sees in her eyes and the quirk of her lips she tries and fails to suppress make him feel like he’s at the top of the world, even if in truth, he is only at the top of the staircase.

“Hi Vanya,” he grins, boyish and cocksure.

* * *

  
(Fact, Reginald is ruthless and cunning. He’ll use who or whatever. He uses Number One and Number Three’s feelings, so why would this be any different? Number Seven was supposed to leash Number Five, and when he left anyway, well she was less than useless.)

What he never realized, and what Five tries and fails to forget is that Five, confident in his abilities was supposed to take them all with him. Vanya being left out of another ‘family’ portrait, standing aside morose and as silent as a ghost, was what broke the camel’s back.

Another thing he won’t admit - of course he wanted to prove the old man wrong, but and childish as it is, at seeing that slight shake of her head, he took it an affront to himself and his abilities. He wanted to show her _– see I can do it, see you can believe in me._

Even then he couldn’t stand her lack of faith _(in him)_. He was supposed to return a triumphant hero and his sibling would look at him in awe and envy, Dad would be forced to eat his words, and pride would shine in her eyes and the smile she’d no longer repress.

But things never go as they’re supposed to, do they?

In another time, he would have seen that subtle shake, and pride would still be there yes, but it would have been overshadowed by another larger feeling, and he would’ve stayed. In another time, he callously puts a bullet through her head without a care. Odds and evens, it’s the law of the averages. There had to be at least one timeline where he didn’t love her.

* * *

  
There’s no rationality to him going to her for help. For all they both know - at least then - she was ordinary. But for him, it would have been enough for her to believe him. As long as her faith was there, he could have taken on the world twice. _(If even she didn’t believe him, then who would?)_

As he said he’s a creature of habit.

But he’s been gone for too long and the thread has frayed. She breaks his heart and he breaks hers by leaving _(again)_. A creature of habit. At least this time, he can apologize _(but it’s still not enough)_.

In this timeline, the Commission has to ensure the apocalypse happens. Vanya would always be the bomb but Five is the detonator, and when he left, he lit the fuse. He can manipulate time as much as he likes so that he restarts the minutes, but the timer will always be ticking.

It’s Ouroboros - round and round it goes, all this time he’s been chasing his tail.

* * *

_  
‘You’re our sister. You’re part of the Umbrella Academy, whether you like it or not.’_

He hates her a little that she can find it so easy to leave them, while he’s been through hell again and again just to get back to them.

Contrary to common opinion, he’s never blinked inside Vanya’s room. For one, he wouldn’t want to interrupt her practice. He’s always knocked, but even then it still ended up interrupting her so she eventually took to leaving the door open.

He’s a creature of habit.

So is she.

_(You should have locks on your windows.)_

_(He knocks on her car window, and she brings it down, but in the end she still leaves.)_

While he’s been static even as he’s been running and running, it seems like she’s just been getting further away.

* * *

  
Another memory sparks.

Nowadays, his smile if it can even be called that is plastic and razor sharp. He lifts the corners and ends up looking like a deranged mask.

But it’s always been so easy to smile at her, even while forcing it, even through fear and apprehension of going under a needle.

After, he sees an umbrella in ink yet vastly different from his own. Like earlier with his smile, with his hands gripping her shoulders tightly, he reassures her. _Even without that, you’re part of us._ He wants so badly for her to believe him. He always wants her to believe him. But her smile still doesn’t reach her eyes.

It easy to call her Vanya. She’s always hated her number after all. Everyone else had already chosen. For Number Two, Four, and Six, they jumped at the opportunity. One took pride in his number, but he followed Number Three’s lead. Number Five also had a sense of pride over his number, but for different reasons than One. Despite the fact that he knows that he’s better than his teammates, it doesn’t feel right to him not to be a part of that whole. His name makes him feel part of a unit.

Although they have their reasons, where does he belong now that everyone else finds it so easy to discard something that connects them? Despite the fact that he knows himself and he know what he wants, and he’s always been certain and sure, he’s the last to pick because of something as embarrassing as being unable to decide. The old man would have eaten him alive for any sign of weakness.

Vanya - it rolls easily off his tongue unexpectedly - confides in him that they chose their names, and wasn’t it a happy coincidence that even for something as simple as this, they matched?

And Five, with something like happiness realizes she’s right. V for Vanya and for Number Five. And so he chooses. Just like how Vanya sounds right, Number Five does too. It’s his connection to his family.

He recounts this to her as impassioned as he can. _Doesn’t she see? They match._ Just because she doesn’t have a tattoo doesn’t mean she doesn’t belong. In the same way, just because he doesn’t have a second name doesn’t mean he can no longer adapt to this new configuration. This is her chance to belong. He can always adapt.

* * *

 _  
You let her go?_ Diego’s incredulous and Five can’t blame him. For all he knows, Five waits for no one. He’d sooner drag them all at his pace, by their necks if he had to.

Just as he knows his own self-worth, he knows she’ll be back. _~~(And anyway, he’s gotten used to letting her go.)~~_

He believes in her and has enough faith for the both of them _(even if she doesn’t believe in him)_.

She just needs time, and even if the timer is ticking, it’s the least he can give her.

Seventeen years she’s waited _(and maybe she’s just…stopped, and oh isn’t that a bitter pill to swallow)_. He can give her these stolen moments.

Even if the world can’t _(they’re out of time)_ , _he_ can wait. He owes her that.

* * *

  
Much later, he allows her to leave a second _(third?)_ time. But it takes everything in him, like the crackling electricity and that deadly instinct he holds back.

He’s never been patient, but he’s had time - forty-five fucking years - to learn. Patience and humility are truths he’s had to swallow so many times it feels like he really will choke. But the alternative can’t even bear thinking about. Once, twice, countless time but really who’s counting when timelines are involved, his arrogance cost him everything. He doesn’t want to push his luck.

He also doesn’t want to push her, but he also kind of wants to.

It’s like nothing has changed. He’s staring at death in the face again, only this time _(again)_ , she wears the face of his sister.

For one mad moment, he considers just letting go. _Why not?_ The both of them would survive.

She’s only ever like this around or because of him. It’s hard for him to imagine her aggressively challenging their other siblings like this. She’d be sweet, and gentle, and understanding.

I guess the opposite holds true, their other siblings probably wouldn’t understand why he’s – whatever he is – around her.

And because of that fundamental truth, he backs down. He might threaten to kill them, but he can’t actually hurt his family.

And it incenses him that she can so easily risk it all for other people _(over her family, over him)_ , when he’d step on countless other people’s throats for _their_ family. Doesn’t that mean anything any more?

She gives love so freely, too freely, he thinks.

He’d risk anything for his family, but who are these people that she’d risk everything _(facing him)_ for them?

He’s so stupid. He should have picked up Allison instead, and Luther pick up Vanya. Just like the first time around, it could have gone so smoothly.

If something worked, he shouldn’t have broken it.

Later he rages, against Luther, against his sisters, against the world, against fate, against everything that keeps screwing them over, but mostly he’s infuriated at himself.

How could he be so fucking stupid?

Of course Luther would let Allison say goodbye to the man she loves, and stand by while she does it too – the masochist. Or maybe no, he’s not that much of a masochist, and therein lies the problem, because he left without bringing Allison.

But that’s hypocritical because he did the exact same thing. If Luther’s an idiot, then he’s one too, and doesn’t just fucking smart.

A tactical failure on his part. He would’ve blinked Allison before she could rumor him, and Vanya wouldn’t have blown up against Luther.

But who’s to say, it’s just another timeline unexplored.

And Five doesn’t have time for hypotheticals and what-ifs. He says every sibling for himself, but well he’s always been a liar.

* * *

He’s prideful over things that belong to him, so it would make sense that he has a bit of a problem with sharing – information, responsibility, coffee – among other things.

(Other people are one thing, but he’s already proven he’d kill even himself for a chance to take his own place.

_‘All we have to do is make nice with Vanya.’_

He has issues, and no therapist in the world can even begin unpacking them.)

A part of him, a part he’s self-aware enough to know may have become twisted _(he presents a well-enough façade, but no one goes through what he did without somehow some part turning inherently wrong)_ , hoards what he believes is his - a habit that was only exacerbated by the apocalypse, even when there was no one there he had to compete with. No one at all.

That may be why he holds his family’s safety so deeply, because they’re family, but more importantly they’re _his_.

He loves all of them equally, but perhaps he loves some more equally than others.

(He’d threaten to kill Diego for also wanting to say goodbye, but he’d forgive Vanya the apocalypse. Seventeen years of loneliness for forty-five years of silence, sounds fair, all things considering.)

A childish part of him, the part that never got to grow up properly, holds desperately to the familiar – his uniforms, fluffernutters, and his place in the world, or at least the only part of it that matters. 

Because there was a system, there was order. Odds and Evens. So they’re all his, but Vanya was more his than anyone else’s. That’s how it’s always been, that’s how it was supposed to be, but things don’t go the way they’re supposed to, do they?

_‘Sole’_ should have meant something, mean something, still mean something.

But as he said, he was forced to learn. So he likes to think he’s gotten better at sharing. _(He said our sister, didn’t he?)_

Even if Vanya showers her quiet love too freely at the siblings that once shunned her.

(Ruthlessly he silences that bitter voice, the voice that sounds like the old man, the Handler, he has no right and what kind of awful brother must he be if he wanted her to end up just like him – alone, with no place to belong – just so he could have something familiar left. He should be happy, and he _is_ happy for her.) 

But he still disrupts forehead kisses and group hugs, and childishly claims his place beside her, even if only by sitting shot-gun. Doesn’t he at least deserve this? Just this, he won’t want for anything more. _(But oh, he’s still a liar after all)._

* * *

  
But it’s too late. It’s always too late. He keeps making the same mistakes, because hasn’t he already made her like him? Just because the apocalypse didn’t happen _this_ time doesn’t mean it never happened, in the same way that his thirteen-year old body doesn’t erase the blood on his hands.

He’s already made her a killer, so what’s more to add to the list?

Now he’s made it so this time around, it’s her leaving the one she loves behind.

He wants to comfort her, tell her it gets easier, but that would be a lie. Look at him, he came back, in a manner of speaking, and it still hurts.

He can only apologize, and hope this time it’ll be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Five endlessly fascinates me, and by extension his dynamic with his family, and especially Vanya. There's a dichotomy to him. He's an assassin, but he doesn't want to be. It's because of his family that he's become a killer, but it's also his family that makes him human, and I think Vanya brings out his humanity most of all. That can be due to so many different things. It doesn't necessarily have to be romantic, but there's inherent angst in what-could-have-beens. Regardless, I still love the concept of having a favorite person in the whole wide world and all of time, that one person that regardless of your relationship with them, just makes everything right and lets you settle. And I think Five for all he's grown up, still remains that child, that clings to normalcy or the before, akin to clinging to your favorite security blanket. Even in canon, the parallels and contrasts are intriguing to me.


End file.
